C R A S S A N O V A

The Dangerous Confessions of An Online Dating Addict…

Month: April, 2012

The Curious Case Of Benjamin Unbuttoned…

Last night’s date was via E-Harmony.com.

The Place: Chelsea

The Drinks: Cocktails (and more)

 

The gentleman seemed perfect for me – said all the things I wanted to hear from a prospective online date; “I am tall, attractive, interesting, financially solvent, socially gregarious,” et cetera. I pointed out that “socially” and “gregarious” were synonyms and asked if he planned to bring his thesaurus with him on our date, and luckily he responded cleverly, “my thesaurus got donated to the British Museum ; all of those bones took up too much room.” Yes, for that small fee of terrible humour, gentlemen receive the opportunity to win me over in person.

I usually try to arrive a few minutes late, to clock the venue and see if I can glimpse someone with Judge Doom eyes (Who Framed Roger Rabbit), in which case a quick jaunt around the park and only the text messages remain of this “meeting” you claim was meant to happen. In any event, the lady ought not to be sitting alone for the gentleman to approach her in public (shock horror) so this is the key to meeting online dates. Be late. And if they’re later than you, keep in mind they likely had the same die, but subtract points off the final score.

I was not impressed with the gentleman; he had clearly used a photograph from ages before and seemed a mite plumper, having aged overnight. All of a sudden 34 seemed like a hilarious joke (on me), and I was tempted to ask if he’d had a hard road on the way to financial solvency, hence all the crows nesting in his eye-region and the jowls setting in. Making money is hard work.  I ordered a drink anyhow, and chatted away, neutralizing all thoughts of romance, and simply allowing myself to be entertained.

He was rapt and leaning in and seemed ever so excited, which I soon twigged was down to his right hand not leaving the pocket of his trousers for the duration of our encounter, and which also never left as I said good-bye (nor did he bother to stand, thank goodness).  I left the venue with a new lesson in mind: beware the gentleman who tells you what you want to hear, then takes you somewhere with long tablecloths.

Too Much, Too Soon.

Last night’s date was via Lovestruck.com.

The Place: Chancery Lane

The Drinks: Champagne

 

Now, I know you gentlemen out there think we ladies will complain about anything, and while that is clearly very true, there is such a thing as “too much of a good thing”. Yes, of course we all want to meet a gentleman who thinks of sweet and charming little things to make us feel special, but here’s a rapid-fire way to NotInterestedville, via uncomfortable OTT gestures.

While making an effort to take your lady somewhere she’d like, this lady knows for a fact that most men are not too keen to have a meatless meal, so I was somewhat impressed when the gentleman made an effort to take me to what was written up as some sort of central London vegetarian paradise. His pictures were attractive, he had that “nice smile/eyes/shoulders” thing going on where I thought he’s bound to have some personality defect, but talking on the phone and via text was fine, in fact, he was attentive, charming, funny, cool.

Or so I thought until I met him and he surprised me with a massive bouquet of flowers at the restaurant. While other people gazed on as if he was ‘the best boyfriend ever’, I felt as though it was totally cringeworthy, as there was a handwritten card in a twelve-year-old’s ham-fisted scrawl, which read: “flowers fit for a PRINCESS. Hey, I’ve got to keep you on your toes, somehow”. Uh, Waiter? I don’t think I ordered this side of puuuuuuuke.

Needless to say the overelaborate gesture cost him the game and the title, as I couldn’t possibly be expected to fancy someone so overly keen who’d never even really bothered to get to know me – he’d just decided to throw his awkward A-game in my direction before ever meeting me in person. Sorry, sweetheart. There is such a thing as Too Much, Too Soon, Tuned Out.

Lurching From Bad to Worse..

Last night’s date was via InformedConsent.co.uk.

The Place: Kensington High Street

The Drinks: Vodka, Vodka, Vodka

 

Funny, you didn’t mention “I am a completely mental freakshow of a human being and happen to be eleventy feet tall and weigh 4 st” in your advert…

So the gentleman met me at the station, where it was difficult to make him out as he happened to be standing next to a forty-foot-tall column. He reminded me immediately of Lurch from The Addams Family, but unfortunately he didn’t have the same conversational style, which would have been a vast improvement on the constant hyper nervous babbling coming out of this individual as he loped down the street like my actual shadow (because your shadow is all long and lean, right?) “oh, i know i’m not your usual type but trust me, what you’re seeing now is just a prototype and I will be totally ripped in two weeks!”

Even if you meet someone for an online date and know immediately it’s a “no”, one has to be polite, however, politeness will only carry a gentleman so far, particularly if he’s carried his “date” into an awkward therapy session about his ex, and how she did x, y and z, and how he can “change” and all that, twenty minutes into conversation. Hi, remember me? I’m the one you’re trying to impress by not being totally weird and needy.

The pub – a pub!!!! – he took me to was hideous, brightly lit, and full of chavs, which makes it the single absolute worst place out of the approximate 500 places in that area to take a date – certainly this date.  Awkward got awkwarder as he started acting like the hardman he most certainly was not, saying things like “no one else can take any physical pain or psychological torture like I can.”  Fair enough, you might think, as he was from a “naughty” website’s online personal ads, but it wasn’t even as though he was being shocking or “sexy”, he was just weird and clingy and desperate to seem “in control”.

Some people will not take “let’s be friends” for an answer, this “gentleman” was one of them.  I subsequently received about 15,000 text messages in the days following the date which ranged from “why don’t you like me” to “fuck you, you dumb bitch” and all that. Charming!

Thith Ith Ridiculith.

Last night’s date was via Lovestruck.com.

The Place: Covent Garden

The Drinks: Champagne

 

I met the gentleman at a bar in Covent Garden. To my dismay, he had picked a place that was blatantly advertising a two-for-one coupon for after-work drinks. Really? I mean, are we that obvious?

Not that “cheap” wasn’t cute. It’s just that he wasn’t cute.  He did, however, look exactly like his picture, but what was weird was that there seemed to be a stretchiness to his picture (like when HD isn’t real HD and everything seems really narrow), which of course I attributed to the internet/display pictures being what they are (mostly dreadful).  Big mistake.  His face actually was so narrow I felt like at any moment he might bang out a bag of the white stuff on the horrible lounge table and start using his forehead to carve lines.

Here’s where things took a turn for the “worth”.  He had managed to conceal a fairly ridiculous speech impediment during out chat on the phone prior to meeting – so he was obviously aware of it. However, you can’t really hide such a thing when you’re yelling “Garthon! More Thampagne!” Before you think of me as even bigger bitch, I really don’t mind if someone has a speech impediment, or is missing an arm, or an eye, or whatever; but tell the person about it beforehand/don’t hide it.  Hiding it just makes it a filthy, dirty secret. In fact, if you’ve got a face like the Man in the Moon, you ought to be disclosing that as well. If Jay Leno has to, so do you, buddy. You probably get a tax credit for it, anyway.

After accepting a second drink from him I indicated that I didn’t feel any love connection, and he began to sulk. I “pomised” we should “be friends” and then I ran like the wind to the tube station saying “See you never!”